


From Whence None Return

by Elke Tanzer (elke_tanzer)



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Epilogue, Happily Ever After, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-16
Updated: 2003-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elke_tanzer/pseuds/Elke%20Tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened when the last of the Ring-bearers left Middle-Earth, and who knows the whole story?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Samwise Gamgee, Autumn, 1449

**Author's Note:**

> I have this tendency to fill in bits of introspection or missing scenes, and these just had to be written. I may write more parts of this story, but for now, this is the first of three which stand alone.

I'm supposed to be whole. I'm supposed to be enjoying the peace that all our efforts brought. The Shire is every year growing a lush bounty in its fields and gardens, and I guess I'm making a fair show of myself in my civic duty and all, since folks keep re-electing me, and I'm surrounded by a big loving family in the nicest Hole I've ever imagined. And Rosie, my Rosie, who's so good to me... I wouldn't have made this life without her.

So why, more often of late, do I sit myself down at the top of the Hill under the stars, listening? Listening for the whisper of the Sea on the wind? Listening for the call that never comes?

When will my work here be done?

When are you going to want me again, Frodo?

Will I be able to hear your call if you do?

And how do I find you again?

There's so much to do here, Frodo. I can't finish it all myself, just as you couldn't shoulder your burdens all alone, although you tried. I'm trying, and Rosie's helping, of course. Merry and Pippin have been wonderful, but there's so many little things that need to be done, and we're all growing older. I hope we've managed to raise the next generation up right enough that they can keep working on things, we do need all the hands we can get.

I've been so busy, I don't often think of you in the daytime. But when I can't sleep, and don't want to disturb dear Rosie, I quietly let myself out, come up here and think about you. I know you couldn't stay here, not with wounds so deep and so dark as you had. But part of me wishes you could have. We're helping bring such beautiful healing to the Shire, Frodo, you would've been heartened to see it. You should have been able to enjoy it. And I should have been able to enjoy watching you enjoy it.

Instead, I've got all these things to take care of by myself. Little things, big things, too many things. I'm good at taking care of things, I know that. I always have been. And Rosie is, too, and the little ones. But I get so tired.

Sometimes I'm so tired, I can't sleep... that's when I'm feeling downright used up, and that's when I listen the hardest. But all I hear are thrumming whispers of the water, and I can't hear them as often as I'd like. I need the strength of those waves breaking on the shore to pick myself up and get back to taking care of things again. Do they ever get tired of trying to wear down the stone cliffs?

I need to know that all that I'm doing is somehow going to be enough. Enough for me, enough for the children, enough for somebody. How will I know that I've done enough and can finally rest easy? When will I sleep without feeling I've forgotten to do yet one more thing that needs doing?

There's only one way to get through things, my Gaffer always said, and that's just to get through them. Guess I should take his advice yet again.

I sigh deeply, breathing in the earthy smell of the night's dew. Shrugging my coat a bit tighter around my shoulders, I head back down to Bag End's green door. Maybe I'll be able to sleep some this night, yet. Though, I've barely made out the whispering sounds of the Sea tonight...


	2. The Shire, Late Summer, 1482

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened when the last of the Ring-bearers left Middle-Earth, and who knows the whole story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this tendency to fill in bits of introspection or missing scenes, and these just had to be written. I may write more parts of this story, but for now, this is the second of three which stand alone.

Master Samwise had taken to long, slow walks across the Shire following the death of his beloved Mistress Rose. This was considered by some to be a bit odd, but no one wanted to ask the former Mayor or his relations about it, out of respect. He was one of the heroes of the War of the Ring, after all, and a hundred and two years old. But that didn't prevent his family from noticing, and worrying about him. They weren't sure he was hale enough to be tramping about the entire Shire at his age. In August, his daughter Primrose sent word to her sister Elanor, who knew more about her father than anyone, to see if she could explain his increasingly strange manner. She couldn't. No one could. Some said he had just lost his direction along with Mistress Rose. Others, that he had taken up the bachelor oddities of old Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo Baggins, and wondered if something queer about Bag End would cause the same behavior in later generations of Gamgees.

Master Samwise had moved some of his things out of Bag End, taking for just himself the cottage on New Row which many years past had been the Gaffer's rebuilt home, and leaving his children and grandchildren to keep up Bag End and its gardens, even the beautiful mallorn in Party Field. And he walked. Some days, he walked too far to make it back home by nightfall, so he camped out under the stars. He drifted aimlessly from one area of the Shire to another, sometimes checking on the years' long results of his forestry efforts. No one knew his mind, not even Sam himself. His children and grandchildren often looked in on him in Number 3 New Row, only to find him not at home.

One day in mid-September he found himself wandering the morning away in the green wood where all those years ago Merry and Pippin had taken their shortcut to mushrooms. He stood in the road, leaning a bit on his walking-staff, just letting his mind unwind the tangled memories of the night of their terrified flight from the Shire. But the skin on the back of his neck prickled.

There was something drawing near. Or already near, and watching.

He turned slowly in place, seeking out the source of his disquiet. But he saw nothing. He shook his head, ready to blame memories of those black riders that sometimes still haunted his dreams. But he decided, just for prudence sake, to get off the road and cut across country towards Hobbiton. He was more quiet of step than usual, but still he felt something following him. He took a meandering route through the woods and fields, somehow wanting to fix everything in his mind just as it was, bathed in the autumn sunlight and happy and well, in case his unease was actually a hint of some new darkness threatening to undo all the work that had been lovingly put into rebuilding.

As he neared Bywater, his nervous feeling fading as he approached the lights of town in the dusk, he decided to stop for supper. After a few mugs of ale and the best fare he remembered having in a while, he set off toward the Hill, humming a bit of a melancholy old song to himself as he walked toward Number 3, New Row. But as he stepped through his front door, something felt strange.

Something or someone had been there.

He turned slowly, peering into the dimness of his front hall. There was a flickering light coming from his kitchen. Perhaps one of his relations had restocked his pantry and left a candle burning? That wasn't wise. Or maybe something else was in there?

He made his way, as quietly as he could, to the kitchen doorway. There was a candle burning, and it hadn't been left unattended. A smallish figure bundled up in a long travelling cloak sat curled on the side bench against the wall, not moving or making a sound. He didn't recognize that form as any of his relations, and no one else should have felt so at home as to let themselves into his kitchen. He remembered old Bilbo's tales of Dwarves making themselves at home in Bag End without any invitation at all, and thought he had better come up with a quick way to get rid of any invitations for Adventures. He was getting old, after all!

Sam swallowed carefully, then found his voice, a little shakier than he intended it, "Hallo?"

The figure lifted its head, turning to look at him for a long moment, then brought its hands up to push back the cloak's hood. Bright blue eyes shone gently in the candlelight, in a face that had barely aged.

"Hello, Sam."

The small kitchen fell silent, as Sam's breath caught in his chest. Then the familiar smile which Sam had not seen for so long spread across Frodo's face like sunrise dawning, and he stood, opening his arms to his old friend. "Yes, Sam. Dear Sam, it's me."

Calling out his name hoarsely, Sam stumbled into Frodo's welcoming embrace.

For quite some time, they simply held each other, smiling and then laughing with the simple joy of the long-separated reunited. Frodo was the first to speak.

"Sam? I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. None but you know I'm here, and I didn't know when you'd be home."

"Of course, not, Frodo, you're always welcome here. Had you been waiting long? I've been gone a few days I think..."

"No, I just didn't know how long you'd be at Bywater."

Sam pulled back, puzzled, "Ah, I just stopped for supper... how did..."

Frodo tilted his head to one side, then laughed. "Sam, you can't tell me that you didn't notice me earlier. I've been following you off and on for the past few days."

Sam sat down on a kitchen chair. "That was you following me? I thought it was something quite a bit nastier, if you know what I mean... ah... well, I first noticed something strange at the old log on East Road, and that's a sinister sort of a place."

Frodo shook his head. "Oh, I'm sorry to have startled you like that. I thought you'd not noticed me at all, or had earlier. I've been trying not to be seen, but I wanted these few days to see the Shire just this one last time."


	3. Elanor the Fair, September 26, 1482

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened when the last of the Ring-bearers left Middle-Earth, and who knows the whole story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this tendency to fill in bits of introspection or missing scenes, and these just had to be written. I may write more parts of this story, but for now, this is the third of three which stand alone.

"Sam-Dad, I'll take good care of the Red Book. You know I will. But you can't just leave like this, not telling anyone anything, even where you're going. At least let me come part of the way with you."

He looked uncomfortable, shaking his head. "No, Elanor, really, it wouldn't be a good idea..."

"You may be my father, Master Samwise Gamgee, but I came of age a long time ago, and Mistress Rose Gamgee didn't raise me to let you go wandering off with no one to look after you. She wouldn't have wanted that. I'm coming with you, but not until we've had dinner, and you're not going to stop me."

He was about to protest again, then simply said, "Yes, Elanor, there's a lot of me and a lot of your mother in you. Come part of the way with me."

I tried to offer a fresh pony, but he said, no, we should rather walk. I don't mind walking, so I brought the small bag I keep packed for day trips and we set off. By sunset we had gone a few miles beyond sight of Undertowers, heading West, but then a grey shape seemed to appear out of the air at the edge of the road. It was a pale pony, its rider bundled in a cloak, who dismounted at our approach to lead the pony towards us. I looked to my father, expecting some indication that this traveller might be dangerous, but he seemed to be expecting this, so I relaxed just a little. As the traveller met us, my father stood just a bit straighter, and introduced me. The rider nodded, but I could not see his face within his hood in the deepening dusk. There was something about him that seemed familiar.

My father turned to me, saying, "Elanor, you need not worry for me further. My travelling companion from here on'll look after me, and if we get tired, we'll ride."

I looked from him to the traveller in grey. "You will travel with him? Where are you going from here?"

He did not answer, but my father sighed. "To the Havens, child. And if you persist in being so stubborn about it, you're welcome to come as far as that, but not beyond! And I would not wish for you the lonely road home from the Havens!"

The only reason anyone traveled so lightly to the Havens was to board the white ships for beyond. It suddenly became clear that my father was going to pass into the West, as the other great Ring-bearers had. I turned to the traveller, noting the details of his manner and dress closely to keep them in my memory. A messenger to guide my father West might be an Elf, but he was not so tall, though under those layers of clothing and long cloak, he might be that slight of build. And he rode a pony, not a horse... he stood silent and still under my gaze.

My father tried to interrupt. "Elanor, mind your manners."

I ignore him, something I do not often do. I give the messenger my sternest version of my mother's intimidating gaze. "You will look after him, won't you?"

The traveller did not move, though I expected to again receive only a nod. After a brief moment, his shoulders started to shake, and a friendly sort of voice began to laugh from within that grey hood. That laugh seemed to seep right into my soul, like sunshine. "Ah, Sam, she really is your daughter, isn't she! Yes, fair sun-star, I will look after him, as well as he ever did for me."

It took me but a moment to understand. Another Ring-bearer stood before me, one who had been so very ill... one who my father saw leave for the West when I was but a child.

I dropped into the most graceful bow I'd ever learned while visiting Gondor's court, then straightened, saying only, "I don't know if anyone of my years has ever been able to thank you, sir, but I do, here and now. May your journeys bring you to peace and health, and bring my father to your side, as he has longed for. The Fairbairns will never forget you both."

I took a step back, then, and as a tear slid down my cheek, I embraced my father for the last time. He held me very tight, and said, "I love you, Elanor. I'll be all right, no worrying, now!"

I nodded. As my father turned his eyes Westward, the traveller stepped close, and opened his arms to me. I turned, and found myself in a warm hobbit hug. His soft voice carried to my ear, so that my father could not hear. "It has been a long time since I held you in my arms, and you've grown so. Thank you for looking after Sam and your mother all these years. We will have peace and health, and joy. Take care of yourself and our people, Elanor, it is your time, now."

As we stepped apart, his hands caught mine, and though I expected one grip to feel a bit strange, the hands I held were strong and young-seeming... and I was amazed that not a finger was missing. He seemed to understand, because after one last strong squeeze, as if to reassure me, he let my hands go. I somehow knew that he did not wish to be seen here, but that my own stubborn similarities to my father had given him away to me.

The two of them turned, and leading the pony, began to walk Westward. I stood watching as they sought one another's hands. After all the miles they'd walked together, years and years ago... seeing them share that one simple gesture with all the tenderness of recent habit told me all I will ever need know.

My father is loved, and he is with his best friend in all the world, walking hand in hand toward healing rest.

I turn, and walk back to Undertowers, to tell my family that my father has passed into the West, and to bear the new responsibility for telling the stories of the Red Book. I think, though, that I will keep their secret, that at least one Ring-bearer returned from the West, from whence none return, to find his most devoted friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These three parts, written together, are my third Lord of the Rings fic.


End file.
